All is Fair in Love, War & Quidditch
by sprstarinfrance
Summary: When Oliver Wood is benched for a month he is left to deal with the parts of his life he usually sidelines, including his pregnant girlfriend, Katie Bell.
1. Intro 1

All is fair in love, war, and quidditch.

* * *

Wood, Oliver bloody Wood.

Wood is the world's biggest prat, and for some sodding reason he's my boyfriend.

* * *

Prologue- Katie Bell's Mental To-Do List

* * *

Things I will do before I go completely insane:

I will break up with my tosser of a boyfriend. Most girls would flip out if their boyfriend would go a couple weeks without talking to them, but for some stupid bloody reason I haven't decked him for it. Instead, as I'm acting completely mental, I just snog him until I feel better. I'm not worried that he's cheating because I always know where he is if isn't with me, playing Qudditch. I mean this is Wood we are talking about.

I will not chicken out and take the pregnant test, even though I'm pretty confident in fact that I am pregnant. Surely four months without my Aunt Irma visiting should be warning enough.

I will tell McGonagall that I have to retire as Hooch's intern thingy now as I'm sure expected Mothers are not allowed to referee Hogwarts matches, and this years batch of quidditch players are even more brutal then last years (when I got a quaffle thrown to my head so hard I couldn't see straight for weeks). And despite the git that is my child's father, I much like my supposed child. Merlin's pants he's probably going be just as bloody obsessed with qudditch as his father, he's probably going to be worse, if you add my love for the sport in. Of course I won't be upset he wants to play quidditch, but I ever find out he's completely ignored his girlfriend for it.

I will probably have to stop referring to Oliver as Wood when I'm bloody pissed. I sound like I'm still in Hogwarts, which was nearly six years ago, I am much more mature now.

I will tell my mum to sod off and stop asking me why I haven't brought my boyfriend around for dinner. I can't honestly be expected to tell her its because he barely has time for me, yet alone to come to dinner. This might actually be a blessing in disguise, as Wood is as much of a wizard as you get, and my family is nearly all muggle. Abby has a boyfriend who designs website logos, how am I supposed to explain that to him?

I will drag Wood to a family dinner, as I am tired of my mother thinking I've made him up. This is only if I don't break up with him sooner, as he is a complete and utter prat.

I will have to buy some new robes. I feel as if I'm a whale.

Oh, sod it. I hate my life. I'm going to watch Pride & Prejudice. Colin Firth's Darcy always makes me feel better.

* * *

A/N:

The idea for this came to me, and just won't leave me alone, because I have the time to start yet another story with school starting next week. ::rolls my eyes:: Hope you enjoy. I have the first chapter written- It should be up within a few days.


	2. Intro 2

Oliver Wood.

Oliver bloody Wood.

He just has to be the world's biggest prat.

Why in Merlin's name is he MY boyfriend?

The snogging and shagging might have something to do with it. Mum would kill me if I said that to her…

Right. Wood.

I was perfectly happy in the five years I hadn't seen him after he graduated Hogwarts until I ran into him at the Puddlemere quidditch stadium last year. (It's sort of a story within its self, so I'll do my best to make it shorter.)

I had been working for QARS (Quidditch Association for Rules and Safely) at the time, and was so bloody depressed I spent a great deal of time staring at ground from the top of stadiums. He thought I was going to off myself right there and then, and then we got into one those rows like we used to get into at Hogwarts, with a lot of growling and last name calling.

So then some git on his team decided to pull out his wand during a match- not that mind you!- but the stick- oh merlin- that still sounds wrong, ANYWAYS I had to hang around there a bit more then I wanted to make sure the bloody team didn't do anything illegal again. So there was a lot more rowing with Wood, and me eventually resorting to melodramatics and telling him if he didn't leave me alone I would jump of the stadium for real.

I couldn't put up with him anymore (it wasn't just Wood's fault, there were a few other factors, but it was mostly his fault) and quit QARS, and by luck McGonagall owled me and asked if I want to help out Hooch with some Quidditch related things around Hogwarts.

I LOVED working at Hogwarts, but I finally had to see sense and turned in my resignation last month. McGonagall said she was sorry that I quit but offered her congrats. Bloody good that did me for rent…

"Sodding Hell!"

Mum's bloody owl thought it would wise to throw the muggle paper my head. I tried to throw it back at the stupid bit, but it had already flown away, scared of me. I still don't know my mum insists on sending the local muggle paper all the time. I LIVE IN WIZARDING WORLD.

Too make things worse Wood had just appeared smelling as if he didn't shower after practice.

"Hello, love," He muttered kissing me on the cheek.

I just glared him, "Hello. Did the showers break in the locker room?"

He rolled his eyes, "Were having one of those days…"

"One of what days?!" If I didn't jump into his arms when he appeared he got all huffy, and then would proceed to blame this one me being a woman. It had nothing to do with that… it was probably just the hormones, which was a woman type of problem, but he didn't know that so he shouldn't have been in my face about it.

"Right," He muttered flopping down on my couch, much to my disgust, as he hadn't showered, picking up the paper that I hadn't been able to hit at the bloody owl. What good where my chaser talents when I couldn't use them to get revenge on owls that hated me? I can only hope Hermione Granger never gets a chance to read my mind; she'd probably murder me.

He only stared at the paper before throwing it across the room. I was afraid he would break in a room trashing the likes of even an angry Harry Potter hadn't seen before. (I was possibly more scared when Potter was coach after his violent room trashing tenancies had become known). Oliver had been known for punching walls. I'm beginning to think this type of behavior was common among brilliant quidditch players. We can only hope that Oliver Wood Jr. doesn't inherit that… Oliver Wood Jr? He's going to hate me for that one…

"Alright, Oliver?" I hadn't moved from the spot where I had thrown the paper at the owl, and I could have sworn that Oliver looked about to cry.

"I got a suspension, because of you!" He growled.

"I…." I wanted shout at him, but I really didn't have any bloody idea what he was talking about. I hadn't been near the Puddlemere Stadium in almost a year. I was afraid of Delvish, his coach, even Angelina Johnson, and especially Oliver in quidditch mood.

"Because I can't stop thinking about you and why you're acting so… mental!" I was going to make a comment about that bit but he stood up and stared me straight in the eyes. "I can't help there's something your not telling me. What's going on?"

"I…"

"I mean I asked you to come to that game against the Harpies last week. You still haven't told me the real reason you didn't come to that!"

The a bit of the truth slipped out, "The healer wouldn't change the bloody day!"

Great. Nice way to lead that one in.

He looked at me as if I'm dying. "Healer?!"

I ignored that, "She told me that quidditch was horrid. I tried to explain that it was my boyfriend's game and…"

"Katie. Healer?" He repeated this time with force. "Why where you seeing a healer?"

There was a knock at my door. Bloody saved by the bell.

"I have to get that," I muttered and he growled something I couldn't understand. I was prepared to give whoever it was that was on the other side of the door my best smile, but it was my fucking landlord, the one who hated my guts. I never had taken him seriously because he was bit on the short side.

"Bell!"

"Hello. Mr.…"

He cut me off pushing his way into my apartment, "You have tonight to clear…."

I tried to distract him, which probably where it went sour because there are only so many times you can distract your landlord before he figures out your game. "Have you met my boyfriend, Oliver…."

"Don't care! He can help you move your stuff out."

"Mr…."

"Tonight! Be out by tomorrow or I'll call the Ministry, who will put you Azkaban where all the other freeloaders belong!" He sent me a glare that froze me in spot, before slamming the door on his way out.

I don't know what I said after that but it probably sounded something a bit like, "Ah!! I've been evicted!"

"What was that about?!"

Great. I had given Oliver even more fuel to question me about.

"He finally realized I haven't played by bills for a couple of months. I mean I was always behind, but then I kind of just stopped… and well I figured he'd kick me out, but I never actually thought about it…" I hoped that if I kept blabbing everything would be better, you know? Oliver would stop asking me what was wrong. However, lately when I start blabbing, I start crying, and I can't stop myself.

At least for a few seconds he stopped grilling me. Eventually he held me, I don't really remember. I had forgot that he still smelled of sweat and quidditch, I actually didn't mind. I couldn't remember why I kept calling him a compete prat in my spare time- which I had too much of. While I was in his arms I couldn't help but think of our first kiss, up on the Hogwarts Quidditch Stadium, after a game.

He had been there scouting for Puddlemere a couple months after the QARS disaster. I was staring over the side of stadium not because I was thinking about jumping, but because I was trying to figure out who the students snogging on the pitch where. I was pretty sure they had been the rival captains of Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Oliver had pulled me away from the edge again, and I had barely any time to explain what I was doing before he started snogging me right there. I had wanted him to do it since I was crazy fourteen year old with a crush, and it was even better then I had imaged.

So was everything that followed that night. I never did find out who it was that was snogging.

I had stopped crying at some point because Oliver pulled me off him, and asked me, looking so upset I couldn't stand it, "Katie. What is going on?"

I wanted to cry again. I didn't even try to distract him with some stupid story about my sister's football career. I muttered something along the lines of, "Fine."

"Well?"

I thought about it for a moment, trying to find the right words, but my brain didn't let me finish.

"I was forced to quit my bloody job, because I believe there is something about not flying on brooms when you're pregnant and now I'm homeless!"

He didn't say anything. He didn't do anything. He barely even acknowledged it. Then he disappeared.

I remembered then why I thought he was a prat, and went off to find some parchment so I could tell my mum I was coming back home. I had no idea how I was supposed to explain any of this to her.

But first I cried so hard I still can't believe my face isn't still red.

* * *

the rest of the story will be in multiple pov


	3. Chapter One Oliver

Chapter One [Oliver]

Oliver Wood knew shite about women.

Well, it wasn't like he had never had girlfriends before. But none of them were like Katie Bell. For most of their Hogwarts years he wasn't even aware that she actually fancied him.

She had said everything you could say to a person that wasn't very nice. She said his jumpers were hideous and asked if his mother still dressed him. She asked him several times if his boyfriend knew he flirted with women. She accused him of being duff when it came to quidditch, and he was the reason they lost. She told the whole quidditch team he had a small broomstick.

Obviously he didn't know her like he thought he did. He thought maybe she was just naturally narked all the time, and he was just one of her many victims. But then he ran into her four years later, and saw what he hadn't noticed before, but obviously he was still failing at it.

---

Oliver didn't even know how he ended up in the Diricawl Den. It was, at as it had been for the pervious three other times he had been there, full of the worst sort of drunks found, well anywhere. He had ended up there before as a mistake but today he went there knowing full well it was the place to get pissed beyond belief and out of all the logical options he could think of… this was the only he had the guts to do.

"WOOODEY!" It was, of course, George Weasley hanging out over by the bar. "WOOOOODDEEYYY! You have to try this firewhiskey… its like.. likey… FIRE!"

George Weasley was one of those worse sorts of drunks. George was the reason he knew about this place. Oliver didn't blame him so much. Fred was dead, and this was the lame mans excuse for handling your problems, much like what he was about to do.

"I'll have whatever he's having," Oliver muttered to the barkeep.

"Ohhhhhhhhh Woodey is drinking! I'm gona tell your coach!"

"Go ahead, 'cause of this moment I am off the team for the rest of the season. I can have some firewhiskey for once!" And then he drowned the pint only secounds after the barkeep handed it to him. It had been awhile since he had any alcohol. Normally he was playing… which any word of drinking would have you on Devlish's badside, and Oliver had spent the off season training. He probably hadn't had a decent drink since he was in Hogwarts, so the whiskey literally felt like fire going down his throat.

He couldn't even cough it was so bad so he was gasping for air while George Weasley laughed next to him. The barkeep rolled his eyes at Oliver muttering, "First timer. Probably doesn't even have any real problems."

Once he could finally breath he glared at the barkeep, "I have problems, mate." The man ignored him so he repeated it to George.

"Are they worth getting pissed over?" The redhead asked quite seriously which seemed odd in his drunken state.

"Probably not," Oliver muttered. "I just don't know what to do."

"Mate, I must point out that a suspension does not seem like a good reason to become a drunk."

"What do you know?" He caught himself before he said what would have come which would have been some comment about George being a drunk himself.

"A lot more about this then you do mate. I don't like being this way you know. I just don't have the strength not to be this way. But you- you Woodey are better then me. You wouldn't act this way if your brother died."

But Oliver really had no idea what he would do. He was an only child. His parents had settled on one prefect child. Well, as far as they knew. He only talked shop with dad, and kept promising his mom he would settle down. George had a point. Alcohol couldn't hide the fact that he was suspension for the rest of the season or that he had ignored his girlfriend to the point he had no idea what was going on in her life.

He shouldn't have been in the bar in the first place, but he couldn't make himself leave the bench. "I have… do you remember Katie Bell?"

George's face lit up, "Oh, of course I do! She made me laugh so much. I remember when I told her that she fancied you and she punched me in nose later that night because all she could think about for a whole practice was your knickers!"

Surely he was drunk, but George suddenly had a million stories about their Hogwarts days about Katie, "Oh and the Muggle Studies book… I thought she was going to kill me that day…. then it was the quidditch porno…!" George was laughing so hard he was spilling his alcohol much to the annoyance of the barkeep. "Now if she hadn't been so in love with you I would had snagged her up years ago."

"She was what?" He was pretty sure she had hated him in school. She had never said one nice thing to him once.

"She wanted to shag you senseless mate. It was Oliver this. Oliver smells like strawberries. Oliver has these eyes. Oliver… Oliver… I would know. I was the only friend she had." George leaned as if telling a secretly poorly. "I think it was 'cause of her parents. Her dad was like the biggest arse in the world, and her mom's pretty much crazy. And she would go off on these tangents about her stepmom. I don't think she handled it well. Like well, she took it out on everyone else. So they thought she was a crazy bitch, but you know, that was just Katie."

"Yea, that's just Katie." Oliver knew that. He had been dating that for a year. Katie would never tell you why she was angry. You would have to force it out of her. She would act as if she didn't deserve to vent about her problems. So when she was mad about something she was angry about something else. Something stupid and off topic.

"Now. Katie. I haven't thought about her in a minute." George muttered, "And I mean that. I think about her all the time. I would have married her mate, I mean that."

Oliver didn't know quite how to response to that so he changed the subject. "I smell like Strawberries?"

"Your hair. Like the stuff you use."

"Shampoo?" Oliver questioned as he forced himself to drown another firewhiskey. "I don't nor have I every had strawberry shampoo. And what's this about her parents?"

George snorted something. "Mental. Complete mentals. Mentals. Mentals. Her mum once tired to stab her dad with a knife. Of courssssssssseeeeee the man had cheated on her for almost their entire marriage and had a five year kid with his mistress."

"Seriously?" Oliver didn't know if that was the alcohol or the truth, well, because Katie didn't talk about her family much. The only family she would mention was her little sister Abby, and her football career, whatever that was.

"So. Why did we bring up the lovely Katie anyways?" George said flinging his arms in turn. "I have not seen her since she ran away to 'be hated by the masses'."

Oliver took one last swig of whiskey and finally said what he had been avoiding the whole night. "She's pregnant."

George laughed pretty loudly. "Who is the poor sod then? I can only imagine how crazy she can be when hopped on hormones."

"Me." Oliver muttered. "She's four months along, and I didn't even bloody know."

Oliver could tell by the look that pasted George face along with the five shots of whiskey that followed that he had broke what was left of George Weasley's heart.

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?!" He muttered darkly.

"George, you don't understand…"

To that George Weasley stood up knocking over the stool he was sitting on, and sent Oliver a look that purely said one thing, 'I hate you,' before hissing. "This is what I understand. If I were you, I'd be bloody trilled. It would be the best day in my fucking life. You have something other men envy. She deserves better then you, then me. But you have her. You better take care of her, of the baby. You better! Because there is no one better then Katie. No one!" He stormed off in the other direction, leaving Oliver alone in his pity.

"Another drink?" The barkeep asked.

"No," Oliver muttered darkly before throwing whatever money he had left in his pocket and leaving.


End file.
